


Love Me Tender

by Persiflage



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Cooking, Couch Sex, Dancing, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingerfucking, Future Fic, Kitchen Sex, Movie Night, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, POV Second Person, POV Skye | Daisy Johnson, Phil Coulson's Huge Crush on Daisy, Post-Series, Romantic Fluff, Skoulson Sex Cabin, Skye | Daisy Johnson's Superpowers, Sleepy Cuddles, Spooning, The Retreat Safe House (Marvel), Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 13:51:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7174367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daisy and Phil enjoy some quality relaxation time at The Retreat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Me Tender

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skyepilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/gifts).



> Someone posted a bunch of domestic OTP prompts on Tumblr, and I grabbed most of them for this fluff.  
> Written for skyepilot in gratitude. (She knows why.)

You wake slowly in the soft light of dawn, and after a moment Phil's voice, scratchy with sleep, whispers a 'good morning' as his left hand slides over your hip until he can link his fingers with yours.

"Morning," you whisper back. You tighten your grip on his fingers for a moment, and he nuzzles the side of your neck.

"Go back to sleep," he says softly, and you mumble agreement, pressing your back against his chest as he spoons with you. (It's not often you let him be the big spoon, but you really needed to be the little spoon last night, which he'd understood so well that he'd insisted on your current sleeping arrangement without you needing to discuss it with him.)

You feel yourself sliding back into sleep, and you embrace it willingly – you've got a four day break from work to recover from your most recent mission with your Secret Warriors team, and there's no point pretending you don't need the extra sleep right now.

Phil presses a kiss to the back of your neck and you fall asleep smiling at the gesture.

DJ-PC-DJ-PC-DJ

"Why are we watching this?" you demand. "It's terrible!"

Phil chuckles, then dips his hand into the bucket of popcorn you're sharing with him as the two of you lie sprawled at either end of the couch at the Retreat, marathoning a whole bunch of so-bad-they're-good sci-fi movies.

"This was your idea," he reminds you, and flicks a kernel of popcorn at you. You lift your head and just manage to catch it in your mouth, and he smirks.

"But why did you go along with it?" you ask, pretending a peevishness you don't actually feel.

"Because I love you, obviously," he says with a devastating simplicity that never fails to leave you a bit breathless: you'd never imagined dating someone who could say that so easily and so often without ever making you feel that you owed them something in return.

You shake your head at him, and he flicks more popcorn your way, which you catch, before you flick your fingers at the popcorn bucket, causing a kernel to fly up into his face. Despite his obvious surprise at this trick, he manages to catch it in his mouth, and you grin at him.

"You really are a dork," you tell him, flicking more popcorn from the bucket – it's two kernels this time, but he only manages to catch one, the other dropping back into the bucket when you let your powers slacken.

"I'm not the only dork around here," he observes, and you chuckle in turn. 

"True." You sigh. "It's just as well we love each other, otherwise we'd have ended up lonely and perpetually single."

"It's just as well you found the courage to tell me how you felt," Phil says, "otherwise I'd never have dared tell you how I felt."

You snort. "Yeah, because you're such a human disaster that you'd actually convinced yourself that you saw me as a daughter." You shake your head at him in despair at his ridiculousness.

He sets the popcorn bucket down on the floor, then pushes himself up and crawls down the length of the couch until his body's over yours, and you raise an enquiring eyebrow at him. "I love you so much, Daisy," he tells you, breathless with wonder.

"Love you too, you dork," you tell him, and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his body down on top of yours so you can kiss him enthusiastically. He kisses back with equal enthusiasm, and you feel him growing aroused, his cock stiffening beneath the baseball shorts he's wearing. He shifts against you, and your own arousal surges through your body; you fumble open the button and zip on his shorts, then snake your hand inside to curl your fingers around his hot, hard flesh. He moans into your mouth, an unbearably sexy sound that you'd never imagined you'd ever hear from Phil Coulson, ex-Director of SHIELD.

"Please, Daisy." You love it when he begs, and you can't resist giving him what he wants when he's got that look in his eye, and that tone in his voice.

You hitch your dress up, baring your thighs and your sex, then you guide his cock into your slick heat.

You both groan as his cock fills you, then he withdraws until only the tip of his cock's still inside you, before he thrusts back in again, harder and deeper than before.

The movie marathon is forgotten as he pumps his hips, thrusting deep and hard into you and driving you to such an intense orgasm that afterwards you think that you might have passed out for a moment.

As soon as your inner muscles loosen from your orgasm, he resumes fucking you, making you gasp, moan, and shudder as he drives you to a second climax before he comes himself with your name on his lips.

"I need a shower," you tell him, and he pushes himself up off you. "And maybe a nap."

"A nap does sound good," he agrees, sounding almost wistful.

You sit up, then hold out your hand and grasp his left one. "C'mon, then."

It seems positively self-indulgent to be fucking and napping in the middle of the afternoon, but you can't say you mind being a little self-indulgent just this once.

DJ-PC-DJ-PC-DJ

"I need to get into that cabinet," Phil tells you.

You raise your eyebrows. "It'll cost you," you tell him, then smirk at the mixture of surprise and hope that blooms on his face.

"What?"

"Hmm. A kiss? No, two kisses," you say.

He pretends to think about it – and you know he's only pretending because you know how much he enjoys kissing you. He sighs over-dramatically. "Okay then." He steps between your feet, presses his body against yours, then draws his tongue over your lower lip, and when you open your mouth to him, he slips his tongue inside to kiss you deeply. 

You slide your arms around him, holding his body against yours as he pulls his mouth free, and you both suck in lungfuls of air. Once he's caught his breath, you drop your arms lower, then you clasp his ass, kneading his buttocks with both hands. He groans loudly, then kisses you again, a lot more fiercely this time, and a surge of arousal seems to set all your nerve endings on fire.

"Fuck, Phil," you mutter when he slides his mouth to the side of your neck, grazing his teeth lightly over your skin.

"Mmhmm," he agrees. 

When he moves away, you step aside so he can get at the cabinet you'd been leaning against, and you stumble slightly, your knees a bit jelly-like from the intensity of his kisses. He catches your elbow with his left hand, holding you steady, and you pretend to scowl at the smirk he directs your way.

You get a bit of revenge later when you ask him to pass the asparagus he's serving with the salmon the two of you are having for dinner. "It'll cost you," he says, happily repeating your words back to you.

"How much?" you ask, feigning an annoyance you don't feel.

"At least a couple of kisses," he says.

You move in behind him, and wrap your arms around his torso, and when he turns his head your way, you kiss him. But while you're kissing him, you slide your hands down his body, sneaking one hand into the sweatpants he changed into for your nap earlier. He moans loudly when you palm his cock, then cup his balls. His body thrums with arousal, and he groans your name, his voice thick with desire.

Once his cock's fully hard, you pull your mouth from his, eliciting a whine of disappointment, which then becomes a second moan as you sink to your knees in front of him while drawing his pants down his legs. You kiss the tip of his prick, then swirl your tongue around the engorged head, before sliding your mouth down his cock. His left hand comes to rest on your shoulder, while the fingers of his right hand tangle in your hair, and for a moment you wish it wasn't so short. You begin to bob your head back and forth, your right hand cupping his balls as your left holds his thigh to keep you both steady.

You can tell when he's approaching his climax, and you slide his cock back out of your mouth, then look up at him: he's worth looking at, you decide – his eyes are glazed with lust, his mouth is hanging half open, and there's a flush colouring his cheekbones. He's the very picture of thoroughly aroused.

"Do you want me to stop?" you ask. 

"No," he sighs, and you nod, then slide his prick back down your throat and work your mouth harder and faster until both his hands tighten their grasp as he pumps his seed down your throat. Phil slumps back against the edge of the sink, and you get to your feet.

"Okay?" you ask.

He manages a smirk. "I accept your payment," he says in a cocky tone, and you growl, then kiss him open-mouthed and dirty, knowing he'll be able to taste himself on your lips. He moans into your mouth and you guide his left hand between your legs. He immediately slips his hand into your sweatpants, and drags his forefinger down the length of your sex, before slipping it between your lips.

"Phil," you grunt.

"Daisy." Your name in his mouth is a low groan as he discovers how wet you are, and he quickly adds a second finger, then curls them both around to find your G-spot. You bite down on his bottom lip, and he lifts his right hand from your hip to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip. Eagerly, you open your mouth and suck on his thumb, matching the rhythm of your sucking with the rhythm of his finger fucking, until you come hard, your muscles so tight around his fingers that even though it's his prosthetic left hand, he can't withdraw his fingers for a moment.

He pulls his thumb from your mouth, then leans in and kisses you tenderly as he draws his left hand back out of your body.

"Fuck, Daisy, that was hot," he tells you, his voice hoarse.

"Yeah." You can't really argue with that. 

He helps you straighten yourself out, then pulls his sweatpants back up and reties them. "Dinner?" he asks, as if the two of you haven't just got each other off.

You smirk. "I'd like that," you say, and move to his side to help him finish prepping.

DJ-PC-DJ-PC-DJ

"This is ridiculous," Phil tells you, and you chuckle.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," you observe, sliding around him in your borrowed fuzzy socks.

He shakes his head at you, tries to follow your manoeuvre, and then flails as his feet – also clad in fuzzy socks – slide too far. You grab his elbows and haul him upright again, and his eyes get that adoring, hero-worshipping look that he often sports around you. He's made no secret of the fact that he loves how strong you are – and you swear that half the situations he gets himself into are deliberate because he likes playing 'Damsel in Distress' to your 'Bad Ass Superhero' (his words, not yours).

The iPod you're dancing to begins a new track, faster this time, and on this occasion, it's your feet that slip and slide too far so that Phil has to hang onto your elbow, and you're glad that his left hand is immensely strong, certainly strong enough to keep you from slithering to the floor. 

He's right, of course – dancing on a wooden floor in fuzzy socks is perfectly ridiculous – but you don't care: it's a fun, light-hearted thing to do, and that's what this weekend's all about, as far as you're concerned. Being ridiculous, and acting like horny teens instead of a couple of adults with pretty intense responsibilities, is important for both of you. Who cares if he's the former Director of SHIELD, and you're the Superhero the news media dubbed Quake? Certainly you don't care about that, not this weekend.

You hold onto Phil's hand, which is raised above your head, and spin around in a fast, dizzying circle. Too fast, as it turns out, as one of your feet slides left, and the other slides right, and Phil, trying to keep you upright, slips over too, and you end up on the floor, the breath momentarily knocked from your body by the impact, and the fact that Phil's landed on top of you.

"Are you okay?" he asks breathlessly.

You nod, still a little too breathless yourself to speak.

"Are you sure?" He sounds anxious now, so you grab his shoulders and tug his body upwards so his hips are pressed against yours. Then you nip at his bottom lip, and when he opens his mouth, you slide your tongue in and kiss him very thoroughly.

He groans, then rocks his hips, and you moan as you feel his cock thickening and lengthening inside his sweatpants.

"Bed," you gasp as he rocks a second time.

"Mmm." He hums agreement. "Yeah, much comfier."

You roll him onto his back, then use your powers just enough to push you to your feet, and his jaw drops, because this is the first time he's seen this particular trick.

"Fuck, Daisy," he mutters, then reaches down to cup his cock, and you grab his left hand and haul him to his feet.

"Yes," you tell him. "Fucking, now, this minute." You tug on his hand, and he stumbles after you as you hurry towards the bedroom.

You strip off your clothes fast, and then strip Phil too because he's taking a ridiculously long time to undress. You tumble him onto the bed, startling him into laughter, then you pounce on him, and in moments his cock's buried deep inside you, and you're riding him, his hands on your hips and your hands on his chest until you reach down and grab his hands, lifting his arms up and back until you've got his hands pinned to the bed, and you're lying prone on top of him as you continued to ride him.

Afterwards, you snuggle up together, Phil on his back, and you on your side, your head on his chest over his scarred heart, and your left arm across his waist. His left hand rests on your hip – not in a possessive way (although you wouldn't object to him being possessive with you), and his right arm rests against your left.

"Today's been a good day," he says softly.

"Very good," you agree, and tighten your hold on him just a little.

He presses his lips to your hair, and you feel his body relaxing as his heart rate and breathing slow. "Goodnight Daisy."

"Night Phil." You feel yourself sinking into sleep, and it feels good to fall asleep in each other's arms.


End file.
